


Help me hold on

by hayj



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Does it really count as a relationship?, F/M, Maybe - Freeform, nobody get their panties in a wad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 08:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20060920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayj/pseuds/hayj
Summary: Before she’s ready, Jeremy’s hand lands heavy on her shoulder. She accepts his help getting to her feet and lets him gently guide her to the wagon she’ll be riding in. She doesn't see the looks she gets from the rest of the men and sinks down among the tents and supplies as she's taken away.





	Help me hold on

She’s just managed to get her way out of another tight spot, Miles and Nora lost in the throes of the battle, when she turns a corner and is suddenly surrounded by Militia.

She struggles against them, hoping against hope that her Uncle will come to her rescue, but it's not to be. She's knocked unconscious for her trouble.

The next thing she knows, she’s waking up in a clearing filled with Militia soldiers. A man wearing a red ribbon tied around his bicep, speaks to another soldier before making his way towards her. “Sit up please,” he instructs her. 

Charlie blinks, doing her best to focus on his words. 

“I need to check your eyes, Miss. You’ve got quite the goose egg,” he explains, picking up the lantern attached to a rod above her cot. 

She grabs the hand he offers, because as it turns out, her head is actually pounding. Siting up, she follows the lantern to his satisfaction just before a familiar, tall, blonde approaches. 

“You.” Charlie growls with the best snarl she can muster under the circumstances. 

“Miss Matheson,” Jeremy says, lacing his fingers together in front of him, turning towards the medic. “How is she?”

“Mild concussion but she should be fine, Captain,” the man answers. 

“Can she travel?”

“Tomorrow. No earlier.” 

“Thank you, Corporal. You’re dismissed.”

The medic salutes and bustles away to attend to his other patients. 

Jeremy turns back to the woman now under his care. “Let's get you something to eat and then I’ll escort you to your tent.”

“Where’s Miles?” Charlie demands, managing to get to her feet. 

When she sways, Jeremy reaches out to steady her. “Come along.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where my uncle is,” she hisses, pulling away from him. 

“Charlie, please,” he says calmly. 

She must see something in his face, he decides because she frowns and starts walking in the direction he gestures. 

They stop by the mess tent and she’s served the same roasted venison, bread and fruit that the rest of the men are eating and then follows along quietly as Jeremy leads her to a tent, waving the guard away as he holds the flap open for her. 

Ducking in, she finds a cot with a small table beside it and sets her plate and cup of water down, before turning back to Jeremy. 

He takes a deep breath and begins to speak. “I’m very sorry, Charlie. Miles and Nora were killed trying to rescue you. I just came from overseeing their burial.” Holding out his hand, he uncurls his fist, showing her the necklace she had just seen on Miles that very morning. 

Taking it, Charlie tightens her fist around it. “I want to see his grave.” 

Jeremy nods. “I’ll take you in the morning before we leave.”

Swallowing thickly, she watches as he turns to go. “What’s going to happen to me?” she asks, stopping him just before he gets to the entrance of the tent. 

“You’re a prisoner of the Monroe Republic. President Monroe will decide what's to be done with you when we arrive in Philadelphia.” 

He’s barely taken a step out of the tent when he hears a keening wail from inside. Brushing a hand over his face, he gives orders that she isn’t to be disturbed and enters his own tent next door. 

* * *

It’s early the next morning when Jeremy quietly enters the tent.

The girl is a wreck.

She's sitting on the cold ground where she collapsed, head on the cot, hair stuck to her face where her tears had finally dried. 

Her head pops up when she hears her name and she looks up at him with red, blotchy, cheeks and dead eyes. He sets the pail of water he’s carrying at the end of the cot and lays a towel and sliver of soap on the cot itself. 

“Be ready to go in five minutes,” he tells her and steps back outside. 

Reaching out for the cup that still sits on the small table, Charlie crawls towards the bucket and dips her cup into it gratefully. Drinking her fill, she sets the cup aside and washes her face and hands. Drying off with the towel, she pushes her hair away from her face and steps outside. 

They walk a few minutes outside of camp when Jeremy suddenly stops, pointing to a tree.

It takes Charlie's brain a moment to catch up, but when it does, she blushes. Taking the offer for what it is, she ducks into the brush, quickly relieving herself away from the prying eyes of a camp full of men. 

When she emerges, they continue walking for a few more minutes, before Jeremy once again stops. This time he points towards two separate graves, set away from a larger mass grave, dug for the men. “We only have a few minutes,” he says gently, turning to face her. 

Ignoring him, Charlie makes her way towards the freshly dug graves, falling to her knees between the two. She can’t help the sob that escapes her mouth as she digs her fingers into the rich, brown dirt. Her brother is dead, her mother is gone once again and now her last known family member is dead. 

She wonders how much she’s worth to Monroe now. 

Before she’s ready, Jeremy’s hand lands heavy on her shoulder. She accepts his help getting to her feet and lets him gently guide her to the wagon she’ll be riding in.

She doesn't see the looks she gets from the rest of the men and sinks down among the tents and supplies as she's taken away. 

* * *

Jeremy is concerned.

It’s been five days and Charlie is slipping away. 

She hasn’t spoken a word since they left the Georgia border. She flipped out the first time her guard attempted to force her out of the wagon she rode in and Jeremy had to step in when the man backhanded her. 

She doesn’t eat unless he personally brings her a plate and some nights he's able to coax her outside next to the campfire, where they eat their dinner together, albeit in silence. 

He spends much of the day riding next to her wagon, telling her stories about the early days of the republic making sure to focus only on good stories that feature Miles. Turns out there’s less than he realized. However, it makes little difference since she never responds, simply stares into space. 

They’re a full week into their journey when he leaves Charlie in her tent after dinner and retires to his own. Taking a few swallows from his flask, he shrugs out of his jacket and kicks off his boots, making sure both are nearby in case he’s needed during the night and collapses onto his cot in a heap of exhaustion. 

He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep when an anguished scream startles him awake. He’s on his feet and running in seconds. There’s only one woman in camp and she’s right next door. 

Tearing into her tent, he discovers her sitting up on her cot, hair in disarray, chest heaving wildly. When she sees him, she throws herself into his arms with a sob. 

Heart still racing, he gathers her close, rocking her side to side. “It was just a bad dream,it was just a bad dream” he murmurs, pressing kisses against her temple as he tries to calm her.

When the tent flap flies open once again, it’s his second in command, Lieutenant Anderson. “Everything alright, Sir?”

“Everything’s fine, Lieutenant,” Jeremy assures the man. “I’ll be taking Miss Matheson back to my tent for the night.

“Yes, Sir. Please let me know if I can get you anything,” the Lieutenant replies before ducking back out. 

“Come on,” he tells the girl softly. “I’ve got just the thing.”

Leading her to his tent, he sets her down on his cot and rummages around for the bottle he fills his flask from, handing it to her as he takes a seat beside her. 

Taking a few long gulps, she hands the bottle back to him, wiping her hand across her mouth as he does the same. 

“Thank you,” she says as he places the cork back in the bottle.

He doesn’t say anything, simply swings his legs around on the cot and pulls her down with him. 

“I miss him,” Charlie whispers. “I miss him so much,” she sniffs, burying her face into his neck. 

“I know. I do too,” he replies, suddenly realizing that his world has been irrevocably changed. Whether by Miles’ loss or the woman sharing his cot, he isn’t sure.

~fin~


End file.
